


Asylum

by jaylene



Series: Fluff Fridays [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Naruto, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Connected Dreams, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura is discontented after the war. She doesn't expect Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asylum

Sakura is…dissatisfied.

The war is over, Konoha is safe, and Sasuke has returned and yet…

There’s something that feels unfinished.

Like it was altogether too easy to settle back into the routine and forget the war.

But here’s the thing: Sakura _can’t._

She’s seen too many bodies, too many families torn apart. She’s held people as they died, unable to muster the chakra to even try. (She knows too well when it’s too late.) She’s wrapped her arms around Ino, keeping her comfort as she wakes screaming from nightmares of her deceased father.

It’s not over for Sakura.

And she cannot understand the way Naruto and the rest seem to move on so quickly. They just seem to…compartmentalize.

And Sasuke is out, exploring the wide realm, looking for signs of Sharingan in other places. His apology (if poking foreheads really counts as such) rings as paltry in the days that follow. How could he leave again? Right when Team Seven was reunited, he disappeared.

So Sakura does the only thing she really can do.

She goes through the motions, working at the hospital, grabbing dinner, and falling into a dreamless sleep.

(On the good days at least. Sometimes, she has nightmares. Those are the bad nights.)

It isn’t glamorous in the least, but it life for Sakura now.

She climbs into bed, still feeling discontented and restless.

Maybe…maybe this time she will dream.

* * *

 

Sakura opens her eyes to a wide expanse of land.

The countryside stretches out before her, cut in two by a winding river. The sun beats down upon Sakura’s back and neck but it feels good. She feels alive. The crashing boom of a waterfall fills her ears and Sakura relaxes ever so slightly.

She knows where she is.

“Hello,” a voice says, shattering Sakura’s peace.

She whirls, knees scraping against rock as she looks up at the intruder.

He is tall, tall enough to hurt Sakura’s neck as she looks at him. His hair is a sandy blond and his eyes are a brilliant blue. His skin is porcelain pale and his muscles mark him as a warrior, even in his casual wear.

His eyes are what truly arrest Sakura.

He is haunted, she can tell. He has seen war and death and brutality in its most basic form.

They are kindred.

(Sakura wonders if her mind conjured him from one of the ninja she saw during the war. She doesn’t recognize him, but all faces in dreams are faces that the dreamer has seen in the past.)

“Hi,” she greets in return, watching him with wariness.

Even in the dream world, she is still a shinobi.

“Where are we?” he asks, looking around in bewilderment. “I haven’t seen anything like this.”

Sakura laughs, baffled. “You don’t know? This is the Valley of the End; where some the world’s greatest shinobi fought and died.”

First Madara and Hashirama.

Then Naruto and Sasuke.

And certainly, countless others.

(Sakura wonders if Madara and Hashirama had people who were shoved to the side; forgotten in the midst of their “grand battle” just as Sakura was.)

“I’m sorry,” he says, still confused. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Sakura sighs. “I suppose you’re from one of the other villages then. This is where Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama, the founders of Konoha, met their end in a desperate battle against one another.”

“Uchiha? Senju? _Konoha_?” his mouth is heavy with the shapes of the words, as if they are unfamiliar, foreign. “What are these things?”

Sakura cannot keep from laughing again. At least this was an entertaining dream. “Well, we’re standing on Hashirama’s head.”

The man startles, glancing around before grinning wryly. “It’s certainly different than the Statue of Liberty.”

Sakura cocks her head to the side, wondering what he means. “So which village are you from?”

“Village?” he snorts. “I was born and raised in Brooklyn; it’s certainly not a village.”

“Brooklyn,” Sakura mutters, “and where is this Brooklyn?”

“New York,” the man says. When she regards him blankly, he tries again, “the US? United States of America?”

Sakura shakes her head, scowling. “Stop saying these nonsense words! No such place exists!”

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Sakura. Haruno Sakura,” she replies.

He mouths the name, committing it to heart.

“And yours?”

“Steve,” he replies. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

He’s got this look on his face and in the way he hunches his shoulders, like he expects her to recognize him. Still, considering the fact that he didn’t seem familiar with her or her actions in the war, she isn’t surprised.

Instead she says, “Steve,” tasting the weight of the word, the way it falls off her tongue in an unexperienced way. The syllable curls strangely, too soft and too sharp. It’s…different; _alien._ “ _Steve_ ,” she says once more, trying to become accustomed.

“That’s me,” he says, eyes warm.

“In this…Brooklyn of yours, you had a war?” Sakura asks.

Steve’s face falls and he slumps down to sit next to her. “How did you know?”

“You reek of war,” Sakura replied bluntly. “It hangs around you like a shroud and you can’t seem to be rid of it.”

“What about you?” he challenges.

“What about me?”

“You’ve been to war too,” Steve says. “And from what I can see, you can’t let it die.”

“I guess we’re the same in that way.” Her smile is bitter.

Silence reigns supreme for a while but somehow it is nice. It isn’t expectant. It doesn’t demand anything of Sakura.

“It wasn’t in Brooklyn,” Steve begins, voice low and rasping. “It’s a long story.”

Sakura watches the unchanging landscape; the way the sky stays exactly the same. “I have time. We both do.”

* * *

 

Sakura glances around her unfamiliar surroundings, frowning thoughtfully.

“You again,” Steve says, seemingly incredulous.

“Seems like it,” Sakura replies easily, stepping forward to walk around the room. “What is this place?”

Steve flushes, a blush that spreads up his neck and cheekbones to his ears. It’s quite fascinating, actually. “It’s…uh, it’s a museum.”

Sakura stares at one of the large pictures on the wall. “A museum about you?”

He coughs into his fist, nodding. “I told you about the war right? And how I started off as an icon?”

Sakura nods, examining the suit held in one of the cases with morbid curiosity. “You _wore_ this?”

“It wasn’t my choice!” he replies, sounding miserable. “It resembles our flag.” Steve concentrates and suddenly he is holding a flag covered in stripes and stars. “It’s supposed to be patriotic.”

“To be perfectly honest, it isn’t the gaudiest thing I’ve ever seen someone wear. You should see how my teammates dress; they’re walking travesties.” Sakura’s smile falls as she thinks about the state of her team. She shakes her head, choosing to laugh instead. “Let me show you.”

Sakura imagines Naruto’s orange jumpsuit and Sasuke’s outfit from his Oto days. They appear in her hands and she offers them over to Steve.

“They…they seriously wear this?” Steve asks, trying to contain his amusement.

“Yep.”

“And…and you said they are _ninja_?”

“Yep,” Sakura says, unable to keep from smiling at Steve’s infectious laughter. She even feels less melancholy about her team; glad she can share this with a stranger who doesn’t have the same baggage. “They’re absolutely ridiculous.”

Steve follows her around as Sakura begins to explore the room, scrubbing her fingers across the different plaques. There are no words to be read, only illegible scribbling.

They are not alone, not technically, there are people wandering around in the background. However, they don’t seem real, they are completely silent and seem to be blurred out shadows. They have no faces.

“So what is this exhibit about?” Sakura asks. “It can’t all be your performances, can it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not quite. I told you I fought in the war. Well, I fought with a team of my own, the Howling Commandos. We broke into a few labs, a few concentration camps.” At her blank look, he explains, “It’s where our enemies kept innocent people imprisoned. They were in…horrible condition.” His eyes are dark with the memories. “Anyway, we were able to do some good.”

Sakura nods, trying to imagine it. “And this is also you?” she asks, pointing at a younger picture of him.

He is skinnier, sickly but it is clearly still him.

“That’s me,” Steve says, sounding almost embarrassed. “I was ill my entire life but I always wanted to fight; to do what was right for the people who couldn’t fight themselves. I finally got my chance when I was offered the serum. It made me stronger, gave me the ability to breathe again…they only wanted me to be a pretty face; an image for the war, but I wanted more.”

Sakura takes in his wistful expression and purses her lips. “Do you miss it?”

“What?” he asks, startled.

“Who you were before?”

Steve smiles, but it is pained and bitter. “Sometimes. I don’t miss the feeling of being trapped in too frail a body but…people were more honest with me before I became this.” He gestures to himself. “I fear I’ll one day lose sight of my original goal, that I’ll become the person everyone sees…the one I see in the mirror.”

“You’ve told me of the team you work with now, the ones who avenge. It seems you have managed to keep to your initial goals. You still avenge those who are too weak to do so themselves,” Sakura says, feeling that all she offers is paltry comfort.

Still, the slightest of smiles crinkles Steve’s eyes as he looks at her with contemplation in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Steve says, hand ghosting over hers.

It’s surprisingly warm.

“Besides, your reasons for choosing to fight are much more noble than my own,” Sakura says, shaking her head at her beginning as a ninja. “I wanted to be a shinobi because I had a crush on a boy who came from a prominent clan. I had no idea what I was getting into.”

“How old were you?” Steve asks.

“The Academy starts accepting recruits at the age of five. I came from a civilian family, no one in my family had ever been a ninja before, so I enrolled when I was six. It was a foolish reason.”

“You were a child,” Steve says, looking a little sick. “You were…you were just a _kid_. When did you graduate?”

The unasked question lingers between them, “When did you first kill someone?”

“I graduated at age eleven,” Sakura says. “We were technically ready for the field. In all actuality…none of us were prepared.”

This time Steve actually grasps her hand, rubbing his thumb across the webbing between her thumb and pointer finger.

“You were so young,” he says.

Sakura shrugs. “It’s what is expected of us.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s right,” Steve replies sternly.

Sakura grins at him. “Still looking out for the little guy.”

“It’s what I do,” he replies, ears red.

“Well, over time, my goals changed as did my priorities. I want to protect Konoha. I want to save my friends.”

“And what happened with the boy? The one you had a crush on?” Steve asks, watching her curiously.

Sakura flinches as if struck.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have a chance to respond as the world blurs and spins.

She wakes up, turning over and covering her face with her hand. Sakura breathes shakily, ignoring the tears that burn her eyes.

She doesn’t understand why or how but the man she only sees in her dreams has an uncanny habit of getting under her skin.

Still, even as the tears fall, a smile curls her lips.

Emotions roil within her in conflict.

But…it feels good. It feels clean.

It feels like a festering wound, finally allowed to breathe the air and begin to heal.

* * *

 

Steve blinks, anxiety hiking as he opens his eyes to sterile white walls. For a moment, he thinks he is waking up from the ice again.

Then he sees Sakura.

She seems to be at peace here, in the long winding corridors and blindingly white walls. She wears some type of lab coat over her usual attire and she is turned away from him, muttering to herself.

“Sakura,” he greets.

Sakura turns and Steve discovers that her hands are full of files.

“Steve,” she says, smile brightening her face and the hall.

(Well, in his opinion at least. Bucky would’ve called him a sap.)

“Sorry about this,” she says, catching sight of his tensed shoulders and tight jaw. “I know most warriors do not care for the hospital.”

“Yeah,” he replies, feeling a bit apologetic himself.

“I just got done pulling a shift and one particular case was on my mind and…” Sakura sighs, slumping against the wall and rubbing at her eyes. “In any case, it seems that it’s affected the mindscape.”

“That’s alright,” Steve says, taking a seat beside her.

“Would you like me to change it?” Sakura asks, watching him through her peripherals. He isn’t truly relaxed and she can tell. “We haven’t tried before but I’m sure—”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve interrupts, nudging her in the shoulder. “What’s this case you’re so focused on?”

“It’s not just one case; it’s many. A lot of citizens of Konoha, shinobi and civilians alike, are experiencing traumatic resurgences of the war. They’re having…nightmares but it isn’t always when they are asleep. It happens when they’re awake too. It occurred during the last war too, but Tsunade-shishou…well, she was in no condition to diagnose and help them.”

Steve frowns thoughtfully, thinking of times he’s dropped flat to the ground because of a loud, unexpected noise or woken in a cold sweat, watching his friends fall in the battlefield around him.

He exhales roughly, scrubbing at his jaw.

Sam has preached at him far too many times, eyes soft with understanding, for Steve not to recognize it.

“Where I’m from, in my world, what you’re describing is called PTSD,” Steve says softly.

“PTSD,” Sakura replies, sounding out the letters.

“It’s the acronym for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Steve says. “People usually get it after going through a life-threatening event, like war or a car accident—” She mouths the second example, confusion clear. “—never mind about the car thing. Anyway, that’s what it is.”

Sakura nods, scowling.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, nervous.

“It’s just…that name, it’s too long,” Sakura says ponderously. “Since I suppose, _technically_ I’m the one discovering it in my world, I get to name it.”

Steve laughs, the dark storm that gathered during their serious conversation dissipating. Sakura always had this effect on him. “Oh yeah? And what will you call it?”

Sakura grins. “Maybe I’ll call it ‘Steve Roger’s Disorder’ in honor of the one who gave me the information to begin with?”

“You will not,” Steve replies, pushing her in the shoulder even as he snorts.

“I don’t know,” Sakura says, voice taking on a sing-song quality. “How will you stop me? It’s not like you can enter my world and know what I named the disorder. You know, SRD has a nice ring to it.”

Steve sobers a bit at the reminder that they are separated by an impossible barrier. Thor has told him of the Realms, how all Nine coexist with one another. Perhaps Sakura lives in one of these Realms.

Perhaps not.

Regardless, he is unable to reach her, not outside of these dreams.

Still, he shrugs off his unhappy thoughts and gives Sakura a look. “If you call it that, I’ll know and I’ll haunt your dreams.”

The threat doesn’t really work as Sakura smiles, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers together.

Steve is entranced.

“It’s what I’m counting on, actually,” Sakura says.

* * *

 

“You seem…different,” Ino says, narrowing her eyes on Sakura.

Sakura looks up guiltily, trying to hide the fact she was distracted. She and Ino sit in one of the dingiest bars in Konoha, drowning their sorrows. It’s become something of a tradition though Sakura never gets drunk because of her medical skills. (She’s too afraid of being caught unawares to risk it.) Still, they’ve got good ale, mediocre appetizers, and complete anonymity.

It’s perfect for the two of them.

But this time around, Sakura was more interested in the flickering sign behind the bar. It is some type of bird of prey, possibly even an eagle.

She wonders what Steve would think of his nation’s symbol lurking in a place like this.

“Um…yeah?”

“You’re distant,” Ino says, shaking her head. “Well, no more distant than you’ve been since the war but you’re…I don’t know, you seem happier.”

Sakura shrugs, swallowing and averting her eyes. She’s glad that Ino is teetering on the edge between tipsy and drunk, otherwise she would’ve been called out already for her evasive behavior. As it is, Ino is barely coherent enough to remain seated, much less evaluate Sakura’s expressions.

“It’s…I guess I’m starting to move on,” Sakura says. “I’m settling into the world as it is now. I’m getting used to it.” In truth, Sakura finally has someone she can talk to, someone she can discuss her darkest secrets with without any true repercussions. “I’m…I’m learning to live again.”

Ino squints at her, swaying slightly. A large leer suddenly overtakes her face. “You met a guy!” she crows.

“N-no!” Sakura replies, looking around hastily. No one is sober enough to pay attention to them. “That is _not_ what happened!”

“It explains your dopey grin; the way you stare off into space.” Ino is suddenly serious. “It isn’t Sasuke, is it.”

It’s not a question.

Sakura silently curses Ino’s eerie perceptiveness regarding romance.

“No, it’s not,” Sakura says softly, knowing Ino won’t remember the conversation in the morning.

“Good,” she says firmly, surprising Sakura. “You deserve better.”

Sakura feels affection well in her chest as she watches her best friend. “Enough about me. How are you and Sai doing?”

Ino immediately launches into a tirade about the woes of dating the emotionally inept, while Sakura listens as attentively as she can.

Still, she cannot help but think…

It’s not like it could actually happen, but…

_But…_

* * *

 

Sakura smacks her lips together and Steve cannot contain his laughter anymore.

Her lips are coated in wet sugar as are her fingers. She licks at them, trying futilely to clean them.

It strangely reminds Steve of the video of a dog trying to get peanut butter off its nose that Clint showed him. Clint loves viral videos; probably because of his kids.

“Here,” Steve says, affection growing in his breast as he leans over Sakura and wipes at her face with a napkin.

Sakura just swats his hand away, grinning. She’s never been this sticky before but she enjoys this new experience.

It makes her feel carefree; like a child again.

Steve brings out her playful side.

“How do you like the cotton candy?” Steve asks, shivering as Sakura runs her tongue over her lips thoughtfully.

She has no idea of her appeal.

“It’s interesting,” she replies. “I…I honestly couldn’t tell you what it tastes like.”

“Let me try,” Steve says, grabbing her hand and eating cotton candy off the stick.

It tastes different from the cotton candy of his memories; it’s a…a shadow of what he remembers. Still, it is spun sugar and he is a bit surprised he can taste anything in this dream world.

“Sorry,” he says, hanging his head. “It really doesn’t measure up to the original.”

Sakura shrugs. “That’s fine,” she says, looping her arm around his as they walk amongst shadowy figures. “I’ve never had the original so I enjoyed the new experience.”

“Maybe—” Steve immediately cuts himself off, scowling.

No.

There are no “maybes,” no “ifs,” no chances.

Not for them.

Even as he thinks so, he pulls Sakura closer, reveling in her warmth. While everything is a shadow in this world, she shines brightly as a beacon.

“What is that?” Sakura asks, eyes wide as she looks up.

Steve turns his gaze away from her and to the object of her admiration, grinning. “That’s the Wonder Wheel,” he explains. “It was built in 1920. Would you like to try it out?”

Sakura’s responding smile is answer enough.

Steve leads her up to the Ferris wheel, conjuring up and handing tickets to the faceless operator before guiding her into the cart.

Sakura flits about, shaking the cart as she examines every corner of it.

“This is amazing!” she exclaims.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part!” Steve replies, amusement and happiness clear. “Come take a seat and wait.”

Sakura reluctantly sits down and Steve settles in next to her, eyes trained on her expression.

Then…then they start to move.

Sakura’s eyes go wide for a moment before her face is pressed up against the glass, watching their surroundings intently.

Steve is content to watch her and take joy in her pleasure.

When they reach the apex, Steve wills the ride to stop and their cart swings wildly as they slow.

“Everything you imagined?” Steve asks.

“It’s…I’ve never seen such a view,” Sakura replies. “We don’t…I mean; we have electricity but not on this level. The twinkling lights…the ones that are far away can’t even be separated from the stars in the sky.”

Steve grins, squeezing her hand. “You know, Buck and I came here a few times before the war.” Her eyes are off the landscape now and trained on him. She knows, partially, who Bucky is and how important he is to Steve. “Not often, we didn’t have the money, but the first time I rode this…I’ve always remembered the view.”

He turns to her and Sakura can make out tears in the twinkling lights.

“It’s better here with you,” he confesses, drawing her in close. Steve embraces her fully, burying his face in her neck. “I miss him,” he whispers. “I…I don’t think I’ll ever find him again.”

“He’ll come to you,” Sakura says, rubbing her hands over her back. “Don’t stop searching, _never_ stop searching but…he’ll come to you. When he’s ready.”

“Like Sasuke did?” Steve asks, pulling away and wiping at his eyes.

“Sasuke…Sasuke is a bit different. He _chose_ to leave; to betray us and cut all ties. Bucky, from what you’ve told me, his decision was stolen from him. He wasn’t allowed to choose.” Sakura thinks of a tearful confession, a “thank you,” a cold bench. She grimaces. “Bucky probably blames himself.”

“Why?” Steve asks, searching her for answers.

“Because he is a good man,” Sakura replies.

“How do you know? What if he isn’t the same man he once was?” His hands are tight as he clings desperately to Sakura.

“He is your best friend,” Sakura says. “Anyone you choose to befriend has to be good.”

Steve lets out another sob, drawing Sakura close. She holds him just as tightly, callused, strong hands holding him snugly as she wishes she could be there for him in waking hours.

After a few long moments, Steve draws out of the embrace.

“You said they were different, Bucky and Sasuke,” he says, voice hoarse and rough. “Did he…did he ever apologize?”

Sakura flinches away from him and Steve aches for her and her loss. He knows he is overstepping his bounds, but he wants to know. He _needs_ to know.

“I…no,” she says shortly, eyes closed. “Not really. At the end of the day, Sasuke has always and probably always will believe he is in the right.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says and Sakura understands what he is saying. He is sorry that he asked this question. He is sorry that Sasuke is not. He is sorry that she has been hurt.

“I’ve learned that it is often the powerless that blame themselves and apologize, not the powerful,” Sakura says, feeling tired.

Steve nods, looking like he wants to say more.

He has no time, as the world begins to crackle and fade away.

The last thing Sakura sees is the twinkling lights, blurred to the exact shade of Steve’s eyes.

* * *

 

“Steve! Steve!” Sam exclaims.

Steve startles, looking around the empty conference room. “What happened?”

“You zoned out,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, “ _again_. This time during a team meeting.”

Steve scratches his face, frowning as he pulls away balls of paper.

“Clint decided to act the juvenile and shot spitballs at you in an attempt to wake you up,” Sam says. “Wanda joined in because, well, you know how persuasive Clint can be.”

“Indeed,” Steve says drily, wiping the spitballs off himself and into a pile on the table.

“What’s going on with you?” Sam asks.

Steve smiles sheepishly. “I’m not sleeping well?” he replies.

“Untrue,” Natasha chimes in from the doorway. “You’ve gotten more sleep in the past few months than you received in the past _years_.”

“And I know it isn’t the PTSD,” Sam says. “The effects on you have lessened quite a bit.”

“Around the same time you started sleeping better,” Natasha says.

“Do you watch me while I sleep?” Steve demands, crossing his arms and glaring at Natasha.

She shrugs. “I take care of the team,” she replies, smile lethal.

“Why the interrogation?” Steve asks, watching the two of them nervously. There is no way he can tell them that the girl of his dreams is just that: in his dreams. “What’s bringing this on?”

“You’ve been in a daze recently,” Sam says and he looks concerned. “At first, I thought it was the PTSD, but now…”

“Everyone’s worried,” Natasha cuts in.

“Yeah, it freaks Tony out when you zone out of one of your arguments. He thinks it’s some sort of elaborate prank,” Sam says. “It’s almost like you’re…like you’re daydreaming.”

Steve feels a slow flush crawl up his neck. Maybe he _is_ daydreaming. He can’t help it. Sakura is his closest confidante at this point, the one person he can talk to about anything and everything. Steve sees so many things that remind him of Sakura and he catalogues them to tell her later.

Natasha’s eyes zero in on his blush and a smile dances across her lips.

Both Steve and Sam feel afraid.

“I know what this is about,” Natasha says, sauntering further into the room and propping herself against the table.

“What?” Sam and Steve ask at the same time; Sam eagerly, Steve with dread.

“It’s a _woman_ ,” Natasha says gleefully.

Steve hunches down, frowning at his feet.

“It is,” Sam says, “but who—?”

“We’re happy for you,” Natasha interjects, ignoring Sam’s quizzical look. “I’m glad that you’ve found something outside of the team; outside of avenging.”

Sam catches on, nodding. “Good on you, Steve,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Try to keep the daydreaming to a minimum.”

“I’ll try,” Steve says, embarrassed.

“And Steve?” Sam says as he and Natasha head to the door.

“Yeah?”

“Bring her around sometime,” he says with a wink. “I promise; we’ll do our best not to intimidate her.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha murmurs, waving Steve goodbye.

Steve smiles until they leave, sighing as he collapses back into his chair. “I wish I could,” he mutters. “I wish I could.”

* * *

 

“Another monument?” Steve teases as he opens his eyes to the dream.

“What can I say, I love the arts,” Sakura replies, swinging her feet back and forth over the edge.

“What is this one?”

“The Hokage monument,” Sakura says. “The leader of our people.”

“Oh, sort of like Mt. Rushmore,” Steve says, snapping his fingers.

“Sure,” Sakura replies, not knowing the foreign name but well-used to the cultural differences.

“It’s a mountain with a few of our presidents carved into it,” Steve says. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Sakura says, taking her eyes of the sunrise and standing. “Let me show you.”

She walks to the edge of the monument.

“Sakura,” Steve says edgily.

Sakura laughs. “We’re in a dream, Steve. Besides, I can use chakra.” She wiggles her fingers in his direction. “Do you trust me?”

“Until the end,” Steve replies, immediate and genuine.

Sakura’s smile is a slow thing, unfurling like a sail upon a ship.

“Good,” she says, taking his hand in hers.

His hand, like most of him, is larger than hers, swallowing hers completely.

And Sakura steps off the side.

It is the oddest sensation for Steve, who has never walked sideways on anything in his life. Gravity tugs at him, trying to assert itself but here, Steve is its master.

It is amazing.

Sakura guides him along and Steve’s eyes go wide as they walk across the faces of the major figures of Sakura’s home.

There is a platform down below and Sakura releases his hand and leaps, waving for him to follow her.

Steve takes a breath before throwing himself down by her side. The wind rushes by him and he grins in exhilaration.

“That was…”

Sakura’s grin matches his as she nudges him. “I know. Look up.”

Steve looks up and his breath is taken away.

Seven faces are hewn into the rock, moving naturally with the mountainside. The sun plays across the stone, casting shadows and interesting patterns.

“I want to sketch it,” Steve says.

Sakura shrugs, used to Sai’s and now Steve’s artistic ways. “Then do it.”

She conjures a sketch pad and charcoal, passing them to him.

“What about when I wake up?”

“Muscle memory,” Sakura says, squeezing his bicep.

They sit in companionable silence as Steve draws.

Sakura watches his process but mainly she just watches him.

He is fully concentrated and dedicated to the task at hand, something characteristic of most of what he does. His tongue sticks out slightly as he sketches in broad, bold strokes. Steve is as relaxed as she’s ever seen him.

“It’s done,” Steve says, startling her out of her thoughts.

Sakura glances down, gasping in surprise. “Steve…” she says, voice choked.

Somehow, even though he has never been there outside of their shared dreams, Steve has managed to capture the essence of Konoha in their Hokages.

“It’s…it’s beautiful.”

Steve chuckles, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Thank you for the compliment. Let’s…I’d like to finish watching the sunrise with you from the top.”

Sakura grins, looking up at the sky. “Would you settle for the sunset?”

“I suppose so,” Steve says, taking her hand. “Walk to the top?”

“As long as it’s ninja-style.”

Steve chuckles. “It’s the only way _to_ travel.”

They walk to the side of the mountain and Steve holds his breath as they begin to climb. It is as exciting as the first time.

He stops, maybe halfway up.

Sakura follows his lead, looking at him.

She laughs.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You’ve got a bit—” Sakura shakes her head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.”

Sakura reaches up, strumming her thumb across his chin to wipe the charcoal away.

Steve turns his head into her hand, catching it within his own. He catches her eye deliberately as he turns her hand and presses the slightest of kisses to her palm.

Sakura’s world stops.

“Steve—” she whispers, bringing up her other hand to entwine around his neck.

“Sakura, I…” Steve trails off.

Sakura leans up into him, taking in his heat. With only the briefest moment of hesitation, Sakura presses her lips to his.

It is, for all intents and purposes, a chaste kiss.

Still, it sends shivers down both their spines as they throw their arms around each other, desperately seeking to be impossibly closer. Sakura scrubs fingers over the scruff at his chin, tangling fingers in his short hair. Steve rubs fingers over her cheekbones and ears, taking her in.

In that moment, everything is absolutely perfect.

Then, the world breaks apart.

It is different from their other awakenings, this one is abrupt and it _hurts._

Steve wakes, grasping his hollow chest before tossing his pillow across the room.

Sakura gasps into awareness, breathing shallowly as she punches her bedframe. It breaks but she doesn’t care.

“Damn it!” they exclaim at the same time.

* * *

 

Sakura frowns to herself, clutching her pillow as she stares blankly across her bedroom.

It has been three weeks since she last shared a dream with Steve and she is worried.

Since the beginning of these dreams, they’ve never skipped a day. But ever since that kiss…

Sakura groans, rolling over.

Her friends are worried, she knows it, but she can’t bring herself to care. The person she’s closest to, the man she _loves_ has been taken away from her and she has no idea how to get him back.

She sighs, wondering what he is doing right now. Maybe he’s having a meeting with the Avengers, maybe he’s searching for his lost friend, maybe…maybe he’s drawing images from their dreams.

Maybe he’s drawing her.

Sakura shakes herself, bringing the blanket over her head.

She doesn’t like to sleep anymore; the dreamless black does nothing for her.

But still, she needs it so she might as well try.

Sakura sits in quiet, contemplating.

She jumps as the room fills with sound. It is similar to the Rasengan.

She throws the covers from her head, gaping at the sight before her.

There is a hole, more like a tear really, over by her dresser. It pulses, writhes like a living thing and Sakura can feel it try to pull her closer.

She remembers the stories that Steve told her about the Convergence, where portals opened between different Realms. Maybe…just maybe…

Sakura bites her lip, eyeing it closely.

It is pitch black inside the tear but Sakura can hear sounds through it. It sounds…well, it sounds like Steve arguing with someone.

Sakura wrestles with herself for only a moment more but really, her mind is made up. She throws a few sealed scrolls into a bag, grabbing only the essentials. She worries that the portal, her chance, will disappear.

It doesn’t.

Sakura steps forward, brushing fingers across the tear. It tingles and on the other side, the voices go silent. She’s afraid the portal is about to disappear; that she will be cut off from Steve forever so she does the thing she has set her mind to.

Sakura _jumps_.


End file.
